


The Most Broken People

by wintersnow999



Series: Scientists Are People Too (The Glass Scientists Short Stories feat. The Lodgers) [2]
Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Happy St Patrick's Day Losers, I love y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersnow999/pseuds/wintersnow999
Summary: Luckett doesn't talk about his past, no matter how much people imply they'd like to know.Until Sinnett decides to ask.





	The Most Broken People

     Mr. Luckett had never been a very understandable man, and everyone knew it.

     The deafening bang jolted Sinnett out of sleep. He fell backwards off his bed and, dressing in a hurry, stumbled to Luckett’s door, knocking. A cheerful shout of “Come in, come in!” came faintly through the heavily soundproofed wood.

     “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Sinnett asked, looking around the room in confusion.  Luckett had promised not to test explosives before teatime (or anytime without warning, actually) to preserve the hearing and sleep patterns of everyone in the vicinity, and Luckett tended to be a man of his word.

     “Something did happen, actually, thank you for asking.” The tall man was sitting at a metal table (metal made up almost everything in Luckett’s lab area to prevent splinters flying during testing) and sorting small piles of powder into various bags and vials without looking up. “They tend to.” 

     “Well- yes, but that wasn’t what I meant.” Sinnett pulled up a chair and propped his head on his hands, still tired from his unceremonious awakening. “Did something… unexpected and unappreciated happen?”

     “Without unexpected things, we would never discover anything. I’m sure you know that.” Luckett glanced up briefly and gave one of his earnest grins, carefully measuring out a small amount of something dark brown from an old snuffbox. “Plug your ears,” he said suddenly, and then not a second later a resounding  _ **BANG** _  threw both men backwards off their seats.

     Sinnett sat up, rubbing his ears. “Luckett, what the bloody ‘ell was-?”

     Luckett sighed, resuming his spot on his chair and beginning to gather scattered envelopes and bags. “I haven’t used this particular compound for nigh on six years. Brings back too many memories. I have gotten dusty, though. It shouldn’t have made the noise- yet, anyhow.”

     The other man fell silent.  Luckett never brought up his past from anything before his time at the Society, and though there were rumours and bets aplenty, the detonative homeopath would never say a word.

     “Luckett, mate,” Sinnet began carefully, “if you don’t want to talk about it, I get it, but… what is it in your past that you never tell us about?”

     The other man gave a small sigh and used a handkerchief to pat out a flame that had ignited in his hair. 

     “Several years ago, I had not yet moved to London, as you know. That, however, was not to say that I had not been here before. You know how we all were at that age, reckless and far too bold for our own collective good.   So when a young man whose name now escapes me offered me a chance to make a revolutionary change for the better of all Ireland, I jumped at the chance.

     “He had heard of my work, he told me- even back then I was creating explosives- and gave me a duty that was, to my mind, one of the noblest and finest . I was to make a powerful detonative agent, one more incredible than any other the world had ever seen. That alone would ensure my place in history, he said, but he had another even greater thing to do with it. I was to plant it in a subway in downtown London.”

     “You said no, right? Of course you said no!” Sinnett was trying to hide his shock, but he had never been very good at it. Luckett smiled wearily. “I did not turn him down. I agreed, and readily.

     “It took months of planning, months of testing and restarting and trying again, but in the end everything went as planned.   I had formed an entirely new and unique explosive compound, one that would shake the foundations of the world both metaphorically and physically. I made my way into London with chemical in hand.

     “My explosive went off just as I designed it to, of course- destroyed a third-class carriage and the surrounding tunnel. People died, and it was all because I thought I was in the right.

     “ Maybe I was, I will never know. I do know, however, that the way I went about it was very wrong. I have vowed it to myself that I will never do anything in the likes of it again. I could never renounce my life’s work of creating explosives, though I will never use them for anything that is in any way dangerous to human life again.

      “The place I went on that day- people called it Praed Street Station. And now you know the whole of it.”

     Sinnett gasped. The Praed Street explosion!  Planned by a group of anti-British extremists, it was one of the two most devastating terrorist attacks in London.   And there was the reason it had been possible, sitting there in front of him, casually measuring the same chemicals and powders that had destroyed lives.

     “I beg you, Sinnett, not to think any less of me because of what I did. It was years ago and I have since seen the errors in my way of thinking and trusting. The man to whom I promised my work gave me no recognition in return and abandoned me in London after gaining the knowledge of my formula. I abandoned my peaceful life and my family for all the wrong causes.” There was a few moments of silence while Luckett measured and bottled various chemicals, looking content. Throughout his story, he had not once looked anything less than   perfectly   at peace. “He gave it a different name then the one I had bestowed it- he called it dynamite- and in doing so, erased every bit of me from history, everything but the people destroyed by my work.”

     “Well…” Sinnett said softly, “I understand now why you don’t talk about it.”

      “I never talk about it simply because no one ever directly asked me. I would have told anyone if they had only come and asked. I am not ashamed, but you see, my hands are not clean.”

     Sinnett wordlessly looked at his friend. “Oh. I- I’m sorry.”

     “No no, you misunderstand me.” The tall man smiled. “I have forgiven myself for that. I mean literally.” Luckett waved one soot-covered hand. “I’ll go clean up before breakfast.”

**Author's Note:**

> GUESS WHO I HEADCANON AS IRISH YEP IT'S THIS MAN happy st patrick's day
> 
> Anyway I wrote this to get over my writer's block so I could finish my current chapter of Duality (which you should go read btw: shameless self-promotion because i'm tired)
> 
> And if you don't know the full version of the saying in the title, it's "the most broken people smile the brightest".
> 
> (yawn) Happy reading...!


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